


And Lo, The Stubborn Shall Inherit The Clark

by josephina_x



Series: Easter!Clark, Stubborn Lex [1]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Gen, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 12:34:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/josephina_x/pseuds/josephina_x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bunnies, drive-by-shootings, and guy chick flicks, Smallville-style. Also, scheming!Lana! (<em>nooooooo!</em> …wait, um, nm. We might be ok with this after all.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title: And Lo, The Stubborn Shall Inherit The Clark  
> Author: [josephina_x](http://josephina-x.livejournal.com)  
> Fandom: Smallville  
> Pairing: pre-Clex  
> Rating: R (to be safe)  
> Spoilers: general for early seasons, with a dash of in-joke or two for later-season madness :)  
> Word count: >11,300 total  
> Summary: Bunnies, drive-by-shootings, and guy chick flicks, Smallville-style. Also, scheming!Lana! ( _nooooooo!_ …wait, um, nm. We might be ok with this after all.)  
>  Warnings: Un-beta'd. Except by the bunnies and redheads. Who only sometimes talk back, maybe.  
> Author's Note: Rating for sexual inclinations, and some language. Wacky timeline, story occurs sometime mid-season 2 (post-2x09, prior to 2x10 (and 2x13)) -- please assume 'events' from ‘real-life’ occurred earlier in the SVU:) Oh sweet brevity, why dost thou elude me so? No additional author’s notes at the end of the fic! Holy camoley!  
> Installments:  Part 1, [Part 2](http://josephina-x.livejournal.com/5586.html), [Part 3](http://josephina-x.livejournal.com/5739.html), [Part 4](http://josephina-x.livejournal.com/6111.html)  
> Related sillyfic version of this work: [Inheriting Clark -- The Happy Bunny Version!](http://josephina-x.livejournal.com/3105.html)  
> Next fic in the Easter!Clark series: [Don't Quote Me On This](http://josephina-x.livejournal.com/21606.html)  
> Next fic after that (immediately follows this one): [Solve This Equation: Movie Night + Popcorn + Clark = ?](http://josephina-x.livejournal.com/21990.html)  
> Disclaimer: Not mine, not-for-profit.
> 
> For the [clexmas](http://clexmas.livejournal.com/) Bingo! Challenge  
> Shape: Individual Fill (to-be Blackout, eventually, we hope)  
> Prompts: Costumes (yes, it contains others, but this was the original prompt)

~*~*~*~*~*~

Lex debated the merits of what he was thinking about doing.

He had a feeling it might be wrong, in an oddly grounded-in-physical-sensation way that was unusual for him. He wondered if he had started to develop a conscience at such a late date.

Of course, a vague somewhat-fleeting “feeling” was not enough data upon which to base what might be a very important decision. He needed a much stronger foundation than that.

The general behavior of individuals acting within a group was usually an indicator of something being socially acceptable but not necessarily morally acceptable. He usually ignored peer pressure, but it didn’t mean he didn’t notice it was there. Lex was fairly sure that his action would fall squarely in the former, but not so clearly in the latter. And certain people he associated with paid very close attention to the latter. A misstep could decide for him the company he would be keeping in the future.

He supposed he could ask Clark, but that would defeat the purpose of the exercise, would it not?

He’d known other people in Clark’s social circle to do this sort of thing – Chloe and Pete, especially. Certainly, they would even laugh while doing so. Lana, on the other hand, might not. Clark… probably would not, were their situations reversed and Clark was the one in a position to do such an act himself. Would he? Lex actually had to think about that for a moment. “What Would Clark Do?” was usually a rather good metric for black-and-white wrong-and-right for him, but this time he was drawing a rather distressingly grey sort of blank.

Well, apparently a moral decision was out, then. Lex smirked quietly to himself. This would be a much easier choice to make then.

Weigh the pros and cons. Cons were, as always, tallied first, as insufficient disincentive could always short-circuit the process and lead to a speedy resolution. So: someone might notice and thus he could be caught in the act, further leading to that possible misstep and disassociation he would nearly die to avoid. But, it was only a possibility, and a weak one at that -- he’d avoided such a fate despite having done worse, or what he believed was worse, than what he was currently contemplating doing... Revenge on his victim’s behalf was probably off the table, at least in an overt form that he’d recognize as such. No monetary losses he could think of, other than his valuable time that was being wasted on this decision that he could probably be using more constructively. Although, there was that vague feeling he had that, while not as strong as before, was still present, though now more a feeling of discomfort and unease. Was this really ok to do?

Ah, to hell with it -- Clark would understand, he hoped. Lex slipped a hand into his coat to retrieve his phone. A Clark in a very very strange looking bunny suit was just too much to resist taking a picture!

Lex looked on with an artist’s eye and tried to make a decision on how he wanted to frame the shot. Should he focus solely on Clark, or try to get some of the gaily-decorated Talon in the background? The Easter décor did seem to almost match him -- the old worn white felt costume bunny head looked very made-for-TV Easter Bunny, though the light-blue Victorian-era-esque clothing really did not. Lex couldn’t see Clark’s face through the one-way ‘eyes’ from across the street but he knew it was Clark from his carriage: the slight nonassuming slump of his shoulders, the aura of approachability and friendliness that still shone through the vague gloominess of what he assumed must have been a conscripted bunnyhood, the height that no-one else in town could hope to match. He made a decision and started to casually move into position, but then realized that his bunny was looking right at him.

Well, drat. He supposed he could fall back on the original discarded plan and ask him directly for a picture close up. That sort of thing was expected of Easter Bunnies on duty for the holiday, wasn’t it? Would Clark say no? Lex was fairly sure that he could convince Clark otherwise, but, if all else failed, he could probably convince someone else to surreptitiously take a picture for him. Lex furtively slid the palmed cellphone back into his pocket and strolled across the street to greet his friend.

Up close, he realized that the costume head’s gigantic eyes were worn enough that he could peer in and see Clark’s face rather clearly. Lex realized that it must be quite old.

“Um, hi Lex.”

“Good afternoon, Clark,” Lex smiled brightly.

“…Ok. Just go ahead.”

“Go ahead?” Lex felt a bit off-put -- had Clark known about his desire for picture-taking all along?

“And laugh.”

Oh. “Clark, I wouldn’t laugh at you. You look…” he searched for a proper appellative.

“Stupid?”

“No, Clark! Rather… dashing, in that suit, I should think.”

“I --huh? Really?” Clark straightened, and his demeanor seemed to brighten significantly.

Hmm. Well, now was probably as good a time as any to go on the attack. “Actually,” Lex added, trying to be very casual about it, “I was hoping to take a picture of you. --And,” he added quickly, seeing Clark start to look defensive, “me together.”

“I, uh, not for blackmail?” Clark seemed faintly hopeful at the thought.

Oh, Clark, thy name is insecurity. “Only in that it could be used against me,” Lex smiled. He had a strategy now; he knew he was going to win this. He wouldn’t even have to lie. “I’ve never had my picture taken with an Easter Bunny before.”

That got him a fairly incredulous look. “You haven’t??” Clark paused, trying to imagine an Easter without people dressed up as bunnies, and failing rather miserably at it, too, Lex suspected. Then he continued, slightly suspiciously. “This isn’t like one of those Luthor-family-Christmas things where you didn’t celebrate so you didn’t have a tree or decorations or tinsel or lights or wrapped presents or snowmen or snowball fights, only it’s Easter and you didn’t have Easter Bunnies or chocolate bunnies or jellybeans or marshmallow Peeps or face painting or egg dying or egg hunts, is it?”

Lex felt a little nonplussed. Chocolate candy presents? Wasn’t that supposed to be Valentine’s Day? Face painting -- what? Why--? _Egg hunts?_ “People actually do that?”

Clark groaned. “Leeeeex! You should have told me!” No doubt so that his young friend could have introduced him properly to the spirit of the season. “Easter candy is gonna be on-sale for half-price this week, and if we go tomorrow we can still get the good stuff, but I’m pretty sure the church has finished all the egg hunts for the older kids by now.”

Oh dear lord. “Older kids?”

“Yeah, they-- um.” Apparently Clark had forgotten their relative age difference for a moment, though Lex really couldn’t imagine too many sixteen-year-olds being excited at the prospect of hunting for hidden eggs, unless it was a clever euphemism. He watched Clark think through alternatives and try again. “Well, they set up egg hunts for all the different age groups and look for adult volunteers to hide the eggs for everybody else. Hiding them and watching kids try to find them is _almost_ as fun as looking for them,” though, from Clark’s reaction, clearly the second-best choice in his veteran-experience opinion.

Well, he’d been thoroughly derailed, but he wasn’t about to let his original intent go unrealized. “Does that mean it’s too late for a picture, too?” He even made a valiant attempt to look put-out.

“What? No! I mean, well,” Clark shuffled his feet standing still. Lex still hadn’t figured out how he managed it -- one of those Clark Kent mysteries. “It’s just that… I’m not a _real_ Easter bunny.”

Lex stifled a laugh, and somehow managed to keep a straight face. “Yes, Clark, I understand. You’re like one of Santa’s helpers, only for the Great Bunny.”

He could almost feel the heat emanating from Clark’s half-hidden blush, which was a magnificent red. Now he _really_ wanted a picture! “Uh, no. That’s not what I--“ Then he stopped and looked at Lex with an odd expression. “Wait, didn’t Lana--?”

The door to the Talon chimed as it opened. Well, speak of the devil (woman). “Hey, Clark are you-- Oh! Lex! Hi!” she ended with a big smile. Lex would probably be happy, too, if he was gussied up in fine dress and color-coordinated with Clark. Or even gussied up in a fine dress with Clark -- he wasn’t picky, so long as Clark looked that way at _him_. As if  _that_ would ever happen. Though this was perhaps the only time he’d seen Lana in something without a large portion of pink. That was a first.

Lex made sure he’d put back on his public face before turning to her. “You’re dressed up nicely for Easter Sunday,” Lex commented smoothly.

“Hm?” She looked down at herself for a moment. “Oh! It’s for the-- Mrs. Kent didn’t tell you?”

Good God, it was like a game of telephone -- another foreign custom that he still found rather odd, also learned from his association with the Kent boy. Lex felt slightly faint. “Told me what?”

“About the Tea Party!”

“...Tea party.” At a coffee shop? He knew they sold teabags and hot water, but...

Lana just stood there and smiled expectantly, as though he should be perfectly capable of discerning all meaning in life from those four words with enough reflection. Lex turned to Clark, who also smiled, then bent down, nabbed, held up a white cardboard sign that had been at his feet, and nodded at him. Lex had missed seeing it before. On the sign was a picture of a fancy porcelain teacup and a large arrow pointing towards the doorway. Helpful, just not to him.

Right. He turned back to Lana. “Why are we having a tea party at the Talon?” Which is a _coffee_ shop?

“Well, with all the kids events going on at church,” and Lex was now grateful that he’d had that brief but somewhat-illuminating conversation with Clark just prior so he wasn’t completely lost on that point, “it’s sort of like a mini daycare, and I thought of doing something just for the moms. So I thought about hosting an afternoon tea, with scones and little sandwiches, because I thought it’d be fun, but when I talked to Mrs. Kent about it,” and here Lana paused and gave Clark a grin, “she thought up all sorts of cool things!”

Clark took it up at that point. “Mom thought it’d be a good idea to expand it to a sort of lunch buffet and a full-blown tea party, not just for the moms but for all the older kids and adults in the entire town. The sandwiches and a lot of the baked things were pretty easy, since the Talon already does those or has local suppliers, and since mom made it into a town function thing she got a lot of people to participate.”

“A lot of the doilies, fancier teapots, and cups are donations from the community in return for discounts at the Talon today, and a lot of the town shops even gave us things as free advertising. Donated food items are free, but we’re also selling some of the more expensive things on a special menu, so we’re making some money today since we’re a big gathering place. If it goes really well, we might even add some of the most popular things to the regular menu or start having tea services every couple Sundays!” Lana smiled excitedly.

Business sense, thy name is Martha Kent. She really was wasted on that farm.

“So, the dress and suit are… necessary for this informal gathering?” he vaguely gestured at the two of them, feeling slightly confused. This wasn't exactly a Metropolis ladies society high tea.

“Well, it’s a Tea Party! Like Alice in Wonderland,” Lana said, twirling around in her blue pinafore dress. “Customers don't have to wear costumes, obviously, but we thought it'd be fun if the servers did. All of the girls on wait staff today are dressed up as Alices. We don’t have too many guys, though,” she pouted.

“…Which is why I got drafted as the White Rabbit,” Clark ended with a slight sigh.

And therefore was not an Easter Bunny. “Ah.” That made a little more sense, but the way Lana suddenly looked him up and down like a slab of meat, quickly and very clinically, did not. He almost believed he must have imagined it. “Is there anything you need help with?” he asked neutrally, trying to politely bring the conversation to a close.

Lana brightened. “Oh, yes! If you really don’t mind coming inside for a minute?” and was that a slight bit of calculation in her eyes?

Lex blinked. He’d meant that as a rhetorical question, expecting a ‘no,’ but, as part owner of the establishment, touring the inside for a moment to see how things were going couldn’t hurt. “Of course,” he answered coolly. In return he was graced with an unbelievably wide grin, which seemed a bit anomalous, even for Lana.

“Great!” Lana half-shouted excitedly, and grabbed his arm.

Wh--? Lex had not been prepared for such a dramatic response. As he glanced down at the death grip on his arm, up at Lana with a start as he was jerked forward almost off-balance before he recovered, then back at Clark as he was dragged along, he noticed his friend’s eyes were rather wide. Suddenly he got the feeling that Lana had meant a little more than coming inside just to put in an appearance.

What had he just agreed to?

He couldn’t simply leave, though -- he hadn’t gotten his picture of Clark yet. He’d just have to take care of whatever it was Lana wanted inside, and then he’d be back. Surely it couldn’t be that bad, and Clark _was_ right there. If he wasn’t back in five minutes, Clark would come rescue him from certain danger, just like he always did. Wouldn’t he?

~*~*~*~*~*~


	2. Chapter 2

~*~*~*~*~*~

Lex swallowed hard.

Well, to say that that had not been a harrowing experience would be a lie. And no doubt the worst was yet to come.

He stiffly made his way down the stairs of the entrance, and tried to think through the shock.

Lana had let go of his arm once he’d been inside, and he’d surveyed the very crowded main room as they’d both made their way to the counter. But when he’d turned to go, that was when Martha Kent descended, with a goddess-like radiance in red, red, red, with a Gothic white face and ruby lipstick. In fact, he was fairly sure that that was the exact moment that things began to go horribly sideways and crooked and backwards.

Mrs. Kent had taken one look at him, nodded once, shared a silent look with Lana, then smiled, gently put a hand on his shoulder, and promptly steered him into the back room of the Talon.

She and Lana had had half his clothes off before he’d even realized what they were doing.

Of course, he’d panicked a bit, and at Mrs. Kent’s verbal direction simply grabbed what they handed him, and backed quickly into an alcove behind some very solid, shielding shelving to change. He hadn’t questioned it, or even realized what sort of outfit he’d changed into, until after he’d finished and dazedly come out from behind the shelving again. He wasn’t quite sure how Martha’d done it, but she’d managed to hit just the right words and tone that the Metropolis boy in him just did as he was told and changed in the ‘booth’ quickly, efficiently, and completely without thought. Maybe it had been something leftover from her own Metropolis girl days now long-past, or perhaps it was a maternal thing. Either way, it had been highly effective. He’d been impressed despite himself, once his mind's capacity for independent thought had caught back up with him.

But being so deftly maneuvered into something he hadn’t meant to do wasn’t going to stop him from bringing it all to a halt, especially after she’d gently touched his shoulder with one hand, guided him over to a stool and sat him down, then explained to him that they weren’t done yet and that makeup was next. But when he took a breath, fully intending to gracefully extricate himself from the situation, he made the fatal error of looking up into her eyes and found himself unable to say no. She was too matter-of-fact, too efficient and calmly sure, and he’d felt nothing but 9 years old again and patently unable to do anything except sit there with his eyes half-shuttered while the two ladies went at it with white stage makeup, glittery bright mascara, and bold pinks and blues, not moving or fidgeting even when they’d added a wig -- he hated wigs -- _and_ a hat on top.

After which, Martha gave him the once-over, apparently deemed him worthy to associate with lesser mortals again, and shooed him back into the main area, leaving Lana to clean up. He’d been fairly stunned to see his pale reflection in the window glass -- he barely recognized himself. And, having finally gotten a good look at himself for the first time, he nearly turned tail and fled back into the storeroom then and there, Luthor pride about running away from anything be damned. But he had had no time in which to enact his reaction -- Martha was gone and then back again in a flash, barring the way while handing over an elaborate tray so full of goodies that he could barely balance it with one hand, along with a small folding card table to carry under his other arm.

Once duly prepared, she had politely but firmly informed him in a questioning tone that brooked no argument that he would be standing and taking tea with The White Rabbit outside and directing passerby to come indoors for other light refreshments, if it pleased him to do so. Then she sent him on his way.

Oh, and told him to ‘have fun’ with an imperial knowing smile. Very important, that last bit.

So here he was, standing stiffly like a fool in front of his White Rabbit, wondering when Clark was going to start laughing so he could get angry, slam down the table and the snacks, and storm away so he could finally do what he _really_ wanted to do right now, which was just disappear into a back alley somewhere, sink into the ground, and die of embarrassment as a small puddle of horrified Luthor-boy. Which was an old concept for him, and admittedly one he’d thought he’d grown out of, but apparently today was just full of surprises.

Except Clark wasn’t really on the same page of the afternoon's program with him, because he wasn’t laughing like he was supposed to. He seemed stuck at goggling at him instead. How very uncooperative of him.

Maybe at some point he’d move on to gawking and making some noise. In the meantime, Lex tried his very best and managed to get out, without sounding strangled or completely sarcastic, “We’ve been gifted with a tea service from Her Majesty.” And as far as he was concerned, that was _exactly_ what had happened. He never would have thought it, but Lionel didn’t hold a candle to Martha’s command presence... when she decided to use it, she could be downright _regal_... if she wanted to be.

“Oh.” Clark replied, and startled into motion. “Um, here, let me, uh, help you with--“ He took the table from Lex, unfolded it carefully, and gently set it down, having trouble tearing his gaze away from Lex for any length of time while doing so. Lex lowered and slid the full-to-overflowing tray of goodies onto the flat surface with a nearly audible sigh of relief, caught somewhere between extreme tension and watery-limbed weakness.

Within moments, Clark had poured and handed Lex a cup of tea on a saucer. They had lovely yellow roses on.

Lex decided that staying with his bunnified friend a little longer could make no noted difference at this point, already having been out in the open on the sidewalk of Main Street for an extended duration. He was finding the experience surreal -- incredibly, somehow he was _not_ being pointed and jeered at by the crowds in the streets, well past the time to have been noticed and recognized by all and sundry. He slid behind the table to stand next to Clark, and sipped at his tea while trying to center himself. Hmmm, orange Darjeeling. Not bad. ...And _that_ wasn’t a hysterical attempt to break from reality by focusing on the little things at all, oh no, not at all.

He straightened slightly, closed his eyes, took in a long deep breath, and blew it out slowly, forcing himself to relax the cable-taut tension in his shoulders. Right. He was Lex Luthor. He could be calm. This was nothing. He was standing out on the street next to his best friend enjoying some tea on a perfectly lovely day. What did it matter that he was dressed like... some odd species of impoverished Victorian male? He looked good in anything -- _fine_. He looked _fine_ , in anything. He was fine-looking in anything. He made suits look good. He could make this look good. No, better: it looked good _because_ he was wearing it. It didn’t matter that this… travesty of a brown coat with mismatched plaid vest, striped trousers, and assorted ribbons was what he happened to be wearing at the moment. It didn’t matter that he was standing out here in these monstrosities while his nice, comfortable shoes were indoors. It didn’t matter that he had a teased out bright red wig atop his head that could have put his own hair, lost to the meteors long ago, to shame, or that he had an _unbelievably_ large top hat settled upon that. It _certainly_ didn’t bother him that he’d been manhandled and stripped half-naked against his will not five minutes ago by Clark’s unrequited crush and Clark’s _mother_ of all people, oh no. And the makeup? Pfft. He’d worn a fine veneer of glitter and lipstick and eyeshadow on the club scene before. This was just a little bit more than that to which he had already become acclimated, merely _slathered on_ by deft female hands...

He gave up. Even he had limits.

Meanwhile, the little boy deep inside that usually got the brunt of his repression, and thus also tended to be blatantly ignored with prejudice, curled up in a ball and cried, wanting to know why the nice red-haired lady was being so mean, making him dress up like a hobo clown and then shoving him out onto the street so people would laugh at him. Sweets and tea didn’t make up for it -- he was _really_ confused and _hurt_.

Yet still, Lex felt stubbornly determined not to leave until he’d gotten his photo of Clark. He wasn’t about to give up after already having gone through all this.

It must be true love.

“Um. Are you ok?” his love asked of him.

Lex opened his eyes again, turned slightly, and blinked.

Clark was standing there, looking at him. But he wasn’t wearing the bunny head. Lex glanced down and realized Clark had it cradled under his arm, with a bite-sized scone in the other hand. “You’re not eating anything and, uh, you’re kind of twitching a little...” Clark elaborated with a concerned-sounding tone, frowning slightly. Lex looked down at the table and back up at him. “The peach scones with clotted cream are pretty good,” Clark added, trying to be helpful.

Then they both jumped slightly as a car roared past, then skidded to a halt with a screeching of tires halfway down the street into the just-opened curbside parking space. Ah, and now his day was complete, because mixed in with that noise had been the unmistakable sound of a high speed shutter going off and loud laughter. Someone was playing paparazzi today, and they even sounded to be fairly good at it.

Chloe and Pete fairly stumbled out of the car, Pete’s grumbling audible from where they were standing and probably due to Chloe’s mishandling of his car. She shortly joined him on the curb, then let out a yell and thumped him in the arm, hard, and grabbed the camera away from him. Lex and Clark exchanged a glance, then watched the unmistakable gestures of an experienced photographer deftly removing the lens cap from a camera. Lex stifled a cough. Then Chloe and Pete glanced up, grinned at them, and started to head over. It seemed that there would be no reprieve for him, after all.  Perhaps he _should_ have bolted while he'd still had the chance.

Clark looked over at them, down at the bunny head he’d removed along with his anonymity, back to Lex, down at the bunny head again, grimaced slightly, then looked levelly at the scone in his hand. “Worth it,” he muttered, before popping the scone in his mouth and chewing casually away.

Well, maybe it was for Clark. As for himself, somehow Lex doubted the scones were good enough to offset Chloe’s reporter nagging, the subsequent pictures in the paper that would appear in every rag this side of the Mississippi, and the inevitable chewing out he was likely to receive from his father for a Luthor looking like _this_ out in public. Whatever ‘this’ was. Lex tried to steel himself against the inevitable, but pasting on a very weak, rather thin smile was the best he could manage at this point.

“Wow Clark, nice bunny suit, you silly farmb-- ohmiGOD!” Chloe’s sarcasm ended in a high pitched squeal, apparently after finally getting a good look at Lex. Here we go. “Oh my god. You-- I have to take a picture of you two. Can I take a picture? I have to-- Hold on--“ Lex’s smile got thinner and wider, and was slowly tending towards maniacal...

“Erm, Chlo--“ Clark started to mumble around the crumbs. He swallowed in a hurry, glanced down at Lex, then smiled weakly at his reporter friend. “You shouldn’t--"

Flash! Too late. “Awesome, thanks! You know, Clark is your biggest fan,” she grinned, and winked at Clark. “C’mon Pete!” And Clark’s other male friend trailed along after her, half-whispered as an aside with a genuine smile, “Cool hat, man,” and... was the look he gave Lex slightly _impressed_?

What the hell?

He heard Chloe’s voice echo down the stairs to them before they were cut off by the closing door. “I can’t believe Lex actually got Johnny Depp to--!”

Lex blinked. Then he calmly set his teacup down very slowly and just so on the top of the table, and turned to look up at Clark. “Johnny Depp?” he inquired mildly.

“Uh, yeah, he’s the actor who plays the Mad Hatter that you’re-- ...dressed up as. Leeex,” Clark chided. “I thought you said you were going to go see that movie!”

Oh. The name had been vaguely familiar for a reason. Mr. Depp was _that_ actor, the one Clark gushed over. He felt his lips start to pull off his teeth in a twisted snarl and fought to keep his face neutral. Lex had decided to never see one of his films with Clark, either in the theater or on video recording during one of their movie nights, because watching Clark heterosexually drool over another man who was not him was really not his idea of a good time. Frankly, he’d rather have his teeth pulled without a narcotic numbing agent. So far, he had done a laudable job of managing to find excuses to not see the films in the theater, and had avoided the potential of a movie night viewing simply by not purchasing the DVDs, but he belatedly remembered having promised Clark in a moment of insanity that he would go see the man’s newest movie, which was... ah, a remake of Alice in Wonderland. He hadn’t yet, though, for reasons that he felt were obvious and well-justified, and he wasn’t planning on doing so anytime soon. “I’ve been busy.”

Clark obviously wasn’t buying it, and his disappointment showed. But then he glanced over at the entrance to the Talon and pulled a face. “I can’t believe Chloe confused you for him. You don’t really look anything at all alike.” He paused, then his eyes got wide and he turned to face him directly. “--I mean, you look much better! --In that!” Clark hurriedly amended in a rush, twice, then turned a bright red.

Lex blinked. He’d never seen someone blush so hard that the tips of their ears turned red. Clark continued to stammer vaguely incoherently, looking anywhere but at him. Lex’s previous train of thought came to a screeching halt, then derailed entirely, as he watched his young friend with growing astonishment. Finally, after playing with the bunny head in his hands for a moment in an absently nervous way, Clark must have remembered that he was holding it because he promptly put it back on to hide his face, at least a little.

Amazing. It was like a choir of angels was singing in his ears. Lex wished he had known before now that Johnny Depp movies were the Smallville equivalent of the gay guy’s chick flick. He might have to revise his stance on the banned videos somewhat. And apparently Clark thought he was better-looking in Victorian drag than his favorite movie star idol? Suddenly he felt _much_ better about his change of outerwear, as though a heavy lead weight had lifted from his insides.

“Well, I for one am glad that she mistakenly recognized me, Clark,” he responded slowly.

Clark winced. He knew Lex didn’t like ending up as news or in the paper. “I’ll get a copy from her tomorrow and delete the original before she figures it out. ...Um, if you still want a picture of me in the suit, I mean.”

“Yes.” Oh yes Clark, I do. I would like a memorial to this moment of revelations, absolutely.

“Ok.”

~*~*~*~*~*~


	3. Chapter 3

~*~*~*~*~*~

They were quiet for a time, while over-and-over the same thing would occur. Some teenagers would be walking down the sidewalk and eventually spot the two of them. The girls would invariably make a sort of ‘squee!’ing noise, take pictures, Clark would hold up the teacup sign, the girls would giggle again, and then the group would head into the Talon. The boys generally shook their heads and put on a show of having to be pulled inside by whatever girls they were invariably hanging out with. No-one seemed to recognize either of them properly. Lex tried not to worry about it. After all, his father would find out about his afternoon of playing dress-up one way or the other, no avoiding that and the subsequent dressing-down, but it seemed that sidestepping the newspapers to avoid any articles on him was, in fact, actually achievable. He doubted that all of the photos of him and Clark that would invariably end up on various online sharing sites could be taken down and purged, but besides the one that Chloe had taken, all others had been from a distance or in profile, with no good shots of his face, so if he managed to avoid recognition now, it simply wouldn't matter: there would be no solid proof to be had. Invariably, some townsfolk did come closer, but those who did seemed content to merely stare a little, or babble movie idol praise at him a bit without requiring a verbal response that might give him away. A smile in return seemed to be enough. He’d never seen such polite behavior towards a 'celebrity' before.

Then again, the little country town was rather unique -- when was the last time he had walked down the street unabashedly and unmistakably himself and had to worry about cameras going off in his face and his picture showing up in the tabloids, or being accosted as ‘that Luthor’ and taken to task for something his father had done that he had had no part of? Perhaps that had happened once or twice when he was in clearly in ‘business mode’ and not on a personal errand, but not often. Certainly not recently. It was a startling revelation, and in his estimation the town grew, while to his surprise Metropolis actually paled a little in comparison. When exactly had he started to think of Smallville as his home?

Lex looked down and selected a scone from the spread in front of him, gracefully slathered on some clotted cream, and, being careful not to smudge his lipstick, gingerly took a bite. Mmm, perhaps when both the senior level staff at the plant and the main figures in the community had supported his buyout of the plant, personally and monetarily. He was pleasantly surprised by the taste.

Clark was watching him hungrily. Lex’s heart skipped a beat. …No, wait, that might be actual hunger. Had Clark had lunch? He usually ate quite heartily, and on reflection, Martha had probably had a reason for overloading the tray so heavily.

Lex glanced around and realized that they'd come to a pronounced lull in activity. The street was fairly deserted, and had been for some time. Lex finished the last remnants of the scone, then brushed his hands off carefully, and raised a hand to Clark’s shoulder. He gently turned Clark to face him, then lifted the bunny head up over and off of Clark’s head, then swiveled and placed it on the sidewalk behind him, away and out of Clark’s reach.

Clark looked a little nervous and confused, and a little more so the latter when Lex picked up a plate of sandwiches and held it out between them. “Somehow, I doubt that your mother wanted me to eat all this, and it’s well past lunchtime with no foot-traffic in sight. I think it’s high time for a break.”

Clark grinned a little, distracted by the food, then reached out and grabbed a sandwich. “Yeah, she said if I helped out I’d get paid in food, and I haven’t had teacakes and things in ages.” Lex selected one of his own to nibble on, and contented himself with watching the rest of the cucumber sandwiches vanish into Clark like magic. So, given Clark’s earlier mood, food from his mother was an incentive to get Clark to do pretty much anything? Lex absently wondered if he could get Clark to do anything he wanted if _he_ gave him food. Hmmm. Lex wondered if he gave Clark some cannoli, whether he could convince him to let Lex watch him eat them.

When they were done with that set, Lex set the plate down and finished off the rest of his tea. Clark surveyed the table, then leaned over and took one of the teapots by the handle. He pulled it up towards him, then glanced at Lex and noticed his empty cup. He straightened.

“Would you like some more?” Clark offered, holding up the blue porcelain teapot.

Lex nodded and held out his teacup. Not being quite so shell-shocked as he had been earlier, he was able to pay significantly more attention to his younger friend, and, as he watched Clark, this time he was aware of a vague sense of formal social engagement and he tried to place the movements. He watched as Clark transferred his left hand from supporting the underside of the pot to lightly touching the top of the lid, as he held it gently by the handle with his right. He moved in slightly, brought the teapot up to level, then lifted and poured about an imaginary fulcrum, keeping his left hand on the lid. It had an air of sensuality about it, and Lex was suddenly reminded of the graceful intricate and exact motions of a Japanese tea ceremony. When his cup was once again nearly filled, Clark brought the teapot level then back towards him in a smooth motion that had the last bit of exiting liquid fill the cup just so. He didn’t spill a drop.

Clark then turned and bent forward over the table slightly to refill his own cup, using similar unrushed motions. After setting the teapot down exactly where it had been before, he turned and asked, “Any sugar or cream?”

Lex shook his head. He covered a smile with his teacup, as he watched Clark take up one spoonful of sugar for his tea, tilting the spoon sideways to let it pour into the cup in a controlled trickle, then turn the teaspoon downwards and swirl in a precise manner twice clockwise, three times counter. He then lifted the teaspoon sideways and shook it downwards once to send any clinging moisture back to the cup, before setting it to the side and finally picking up the teacup by saucer with his left hand, taking a sip while loosely holding the handle with his right.

“Where did you learn to pour like that?” Lex asked curiously.

Clark blinked at him. “People have to learn how to pour tea?”

“Mmm, not as such. I was just wondering because not everyone knows to secure the lid without having suffered an avoidable accident at some point, and you seemed to have acquired your own method of pouring.”

Clark looked confused. “Um, is that bad?” He glanced down at the teapot and then back up at Lex, and he could almost hear the silent question: ‘Did I pour it wrong?’

“No, not bad, just… practiced. Everyone has their own way of serving tea, if they’ve been doing it long enough.” He paused as he took another sip and contemplated. “I thought yours was a family of coffee drinkers?”

“Mom sometimes drinks tea, but just with teabags. I, uh,” Clark looked like he was trying to decide whether he was supposed to be embarrassed or not, “When Lana and I were little, sometimes she’d invite me over for tea parties. Lana said we should take turns pouring, ‘cause we both wanted to and that would be fair.”

“Someone else wasn’t?” Lex inferred.

Clark nodded, then had to think for a minute. “One of Lana’s childhood friends. Emily something? I never met her, but apparently she always had to be the lady hostess.”

Lex hid a smile by raising his cup as something occurred to him. “Did you ever dress up?”

Clark simply shrugged. “Not really. All the extra stuff Lana had were dresses and things.” Clark pulled a face before continuing. “I tried some of the hats once or twice, but they were kind of flowery, and mom laughed one time when she came over early and saw me, so... Lana stopped pushing, and I started trying to sneak dad’s work gloves over in my backpack instead.”

“The sudden addition of the backpack wasn’t anomalous?”

Clark shrugged. “I just stuck them in with my action figures, it was easier to carry. They were polite, so they got invited, too. Pete’s, not so much,” Clark grinned.

“ _Pete_ got invited to these tea parties?” Lex asked incredulously. He was having trouble picturing that -- and apparently, for a reason:

“Only the once,” Clark laughed. “He kind of kicked over the table at one point, on purpose, because of an ‘air raid’.” Clark rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what he had against it, he usually loved cookies and jellybeans and stuff.”

Lex tried to think of how to phrase his next thought in such a way as to prevent Clark from accidentally getting the wrong idea, or, rather unfortunately, the ‘right’ one. He had a feeling that Clark didn’t realize that boys disliking tea parties was a stereotypical social norm, and that if he did he might feel required to stop acting contrary to said stereotype. He’d seen Clark react that way before, with other more minor things; Lex still didn't know why exactly Clark did that to himself, but he was fairly sure it went well beyond possible backlash to perceived sexual orientation -- assuming it actually had anything to do with that at all, which he doubted. “He never asked why he wasn’t invited a second time?”

“Uh...” Clark mulled it over. He began slowly, staring off into space a little as he was obviously trying to recall such an event from memory and failing. “He asked once if I was still having tea parties with Lana.” He frowned a little. “Lana sort of interrupted him? --He got distracted. I don’t think he asked again. Not when I was around, anyway.” He turned to Lex, looking a little pained. “It’s... it’s not like we _lied_ about it, we just sort of didn’t bring it up. Pete would’ve made a fuss. He always wanted to play basketball and catch and, well, sports things. He’d barely even sit still for action-figure stuff sometimes,” Clark grimaced, “and if we weren’t doing what he wanted to do, he’d sulk. But he didn’t sulk if he forgot to ask.”

“...and he usually forgot to ask?”

Clark nodded.

“Secrets _are_ ok, Clark.” Lex startled himself and nearly bit his tongue -- he could barely believe that those words had come out of his mouth, let alone in the same sentence without a negation in their midst. The last thing he wanted was for Clark to feel justified and comfortable in continuing to lie to him -- lord knew, he lied to him more than enough as it was -- and he fought to keep a grimace off of his face. Clark had practically jumped, then stared, then looked highly disconcerted. Well, that was both a comfort and... not.

Clark opened and closed his mouth as he paused, grimacing as he searched for words. He turned away from Lex slightly and would not look at him. He stared down into his teacup for a while, then, finally, he began. “It... wasn’t a secret, not really. Lana knew about it. I knew about it. Mom knew. Dad --maybe mom told him, I don’t know. Nell -- well, she kind of had to know, she was supposed to be watching us, and she was the one who made the cookies and tea. We just didn’t talk about it. Lana would come over with Nell, and she’d invite me over to play, but she’d smile the ‘tea today!’ smile, and I’d get what she really meant and go grab my stuff. Pete would maybe be angry about it if he found out now, and he definitely would have been back then at being left out.”

The addition of ‘maybe’ had sounded like a quick afterthought. That set off warning bells in Lex’s mind. He’d had a suspicion that Pete had learned Clark’s Big Secret recently, but this fairly blatant allusion made it sound as if Clark had not necessarily wanted him to know, and was more than likely regretting doing so. And given Clark’s lack of predilection on the subject with Lex already, meant that -- once burned, twice shy -- Lex’s chances of Clark telling him outright had probably dropped to near-zero, if not straight down into the realm of negative numbers entirely. Lex mentally snarled -- he knew there had been a reason he hadn’t liked Clark’s so-called ‘friend’ that went beyond the Ross's insane personal prejudice against all things Luthor. The boy was apparently not quite capable of maturely handling Clark’s Secret, whatever it was, or of being properly supportive of his friend, and thus further ruining the chances of anyone else who would in fact be perfectly capable of both; Lex was most displeased with Pete, indeed. More importantly, for Clark this was probably closer to twice burned, given Lex’s pushing already and his apparent ‘don’t ask, won’t tell’ policy about his secret. And -- he had a sinking feeling -- god only knew what might happen if Clark found out about The Room in an uncontrolled manner. He didn’t like to think that it was all about Clark, but every time he looked into something weird in town, Clark was _always_ right in the exact center of the storm somehow, no exceptions. Unfortunately, for safety’s and sanity’s sake, he couldn’t just stick his head in the sand and completely ignore Chloe’s self-styled ‘meteor freaks’ and the other effects of the meteor rocks, either. Hoping and praying that everything was going to be ok just wouldn’t cut it -- he had a responsibility to the town to involve himself in dealing with such matters, given that he had the means to do something about it; it was patently unavoidable.

And, damnit, this was getting away from the main point, which was that _Lex could have Clark_. Just possibly not his secret. Except that, knowing how Clark was incapable of even glancing at another woman – person -- with any interest once dating someone, he would also likely be patently unable to separate personal and physical intimacy. If things got physical between them like Lex wanted, Clark would feel a very big obligation to share accompanied in the meantime by a huge amount of guilt for not already having done so. That meant ‘possibly not’ became ‘possibly not right away, but someday,’ and he could be patient if he knew that he would have _all_ of Clark eventually. This could be endgame.

Except, and he fought the urge to grit his teeth at this, he did not want dating Clark, or anything further than that, to be about The Secret. He did _not_ want to use him like that, especially since he wasn’t planning on discarding him, ever. He deserved better. They both did -- he did not want to have to hide from Clark and he wanted Clark to feel the same way with him, though quite frankly the thought of opening up like that scared the hell out of Lex.

So, he couldn’t ask outright without violating the ‘don’t ask, won’t tell’ policy and making Clark uncomfortable; even his brief forays skirting the issue had generally led to more lying and open-faced guilt on Clark’s part, and frustration and barely suppressed anger on Lex’s. Continuing to research _anything_ Clark-related -- and, unfortunately, he usually didn’t realize the connection until after the fact -- was fraught with both the danger of early discovery by Clark before he could unearth Clark’s secret _and_ the severity of the resulting aftermath when Lex would eventually have to fess up as part of full-disclosure, as much as he shied away from the idea. That not only didn’t leave him a lot of room to maneuver in, that left him _no room at all_. He was literally going to have to consciously decide to give up the -- he could admit it -- _obsession_ with Clark’s secrets.

Well, maybe not _today_.

He was putting the cart before the horse. He’d have to take it slow with Clark and act with great care so that he did not indelibly link in his mind Lex’s amorous pursuit of him with the discussion of secrets of any kind. So, he’d start later, perhaps during a low-key movie night, make a very slow but definite advance, see how Clark reacted, and try to cement a definite start there to effectively make Clark off-limits to anyone else. He shouldn’t have to announce his intentions outright to the town, Clark would self-regulate his regular interactions with others for him -- thank god, because despite having recently learned in a very roundabout way of a blatantly forthright out-of-the-closet gay male couple living quite peacefully in town, he seriously doubted that the prevalent Smallville willingness to overlook or ignore behavior in direct violation of the state’s sodomy laws would extend to his own interest in a very mature, but still teenaged, 16-year-old male.

Lex decided to redirect the conversation to topics less fraught with danger. “I take it that Pete will _not_ be helping the fine waitresses in my establishment by dressing up for the cause, then?”

Clark laughed. “Uh, no.” Then his smile turned slightly crooked and his eyes sparkled. “But...”

Lex inclined his head and played along.

“I hear tell that Chloe might get pulled to play the dormouse.”

“Chloe, the consummate coffee drinker?  Wired and full of energy, Ms. Sullivan -- we are talking about the same person?”

Clark’s grin had reappeared by the end of his incredulous question. “Uh huh.”

Unbelievable. “Was the somnambulant tea-loving dormouse not sleepy in the film?”

“Well, she was a little bit. More like she wanted to be, but there were things to do.”

“Hmm.”

“...Plus, you should see Chloe without her coffee.”

“Oh?”

“Still wired.”

Lex choked down a laugh.

~*~*~*~*~*~


	4. Chapter 4

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Lex finished his tea, set it down, and selected another plate from the table spread to lift up and share between them, this time of fruit slices and what looked like a honey-cream dip.

Speaking of mismatched roles... “Is your mother dressed as the Red Queen?”  A selected apple slice was a bit more tart than he'd expected, even with the sweetening dip. It was light yet complex, and he liked it, though.

Clark nodded. “Not the movie Red Queen, though. That costume was a little too elaborate for last-minute sewing. We sort of ended up putting something together that was more like a red version of the White Queen’s gown. The Red Queen in the movie is more like the Queen of Hearts in the book, though.” Clark seemed more partial to the strawberries.

Lex’s eyebrows raised. “Why wasn’t she the White Queen, then?”  He tried a pear slice next, and realized part of the tartness must have come from the dip itself.  Interesting.

Clark shrugged, an apple slice in hand. “We didn’t have a white wig.” He finished demolishing that and moved on to the pears.

Lex shook his head. “Well, that seems a worse match than Chloe as the dormouse. I can’t see her raging about.”  He popped a blood-orange slice in his mouth, and the combination was pleasantly almost sour.

Clark looked a little uncomfortable. “You’ve never seen her angry.” Lex gave him a look. “It’s kind of ...scary. It doesn’t happen often, though,” he offered.

Lex still couldn’t imagine it, but from Clark’s reaction he felt obligated to take his word for it. Taken in a different light, such a thing _could_ explain why Clark was always so very, very well-behaved. However, he had always thought that Clark’s behavior was more of a case of nature beating out nurture, given Clark’s dogged determination to maintain their friendship even in the face of Jonathan’s influence.

He could certainly attest to the truth of the fiery-tempered, sharp-tongued, quick-to-anger redhead stereotype, though -- he lived it daily.

“Well, setting aside anger-management issues,” which got him a slight laugh from Clark, “she certainly seems capable of the regal commanding side of things.” The plate, now barren, he slid back onto the table.

“She put her foot down? With you?” Clark looked stunned.

“She does that at home?” The only red-haired mother he’d ever met was soft-hearted, easy-going, and tended to smile and bake a lot. Were there two Martha Kents wandering around the farm?

“Mom’s the peacekeeper.” Lex frowned, not quite understanding Clark’s implication. “Doesn’t work so well if nobody listens to her. Or if she can’t make the decision stick.”

Ah. Conflict, he knew conflict. Just in a different setting. “With two warring factions, a respected neutral third party is sought with the power to arbitrate the matter and stop the quarrel by force if necessary?”

“Uh, sure? Except she’s not a judge and there’s no cops throwing people in jail if you don’t agree?”

“The powers of judgment and military enforcement were combined, Clark, and those Magistrates were called governors or Praetors.”

Clark gave him a puzzled look.

“...I was referring to the administration of justice in Ancient Rome, notably the adjudication over warring factions in the tribal provinces of Britannia.”

“Oh. I thought you meant, like, Family Court. Or Judge Judy.”

“Warring factions on a daytime TV show?”

“Modern-day Hatfields and McCoys?”

“They let people bring guns on-set?” Lex went for the easy argument, instead of trying to argue how the pre-television-era Hatfield-McCoy feud of blood, honor, and vengeance was clearly at a different level than what most modern-day whiny little sheep could produce. Probably a good tactic, considering that he didn’t know any of the details of the mess past the names of the families involved. It was a little too modern-day for him to know its historical significance, but not exactly a current-enough event to have been read about in the newspaper, either.

“Not if they can help it, but people have chairs.” Lex gave him a blank look. “Seriously? Haven’t you ever been really sick and had to stay at home with nothing to do but watch daytime TV?”

Lex smiled. “Ah, but I don’t get sick, remember?” It was one of the side-benefits of the meteor shower he thoroughly enjoyed.

“Ok, fine, but sometimes you’re in the hospital for awhile until your lawyers scare the doctors into letting you go," Clark pointed out. "What do you watch in the hospital?”

“CNN.” Once again, reminding Clark that he had better things to do with his time than rot his brain marveling at the idiocy of the masses.

Clark rolled his eyes. “So instead you compare me and my dad arguing to tribal warfare?”

“Well, you _do_ have a rapier, I hear,” Lex grinned. Technically it was a fencing foil, but details.

“I’m supposed to bring a sword to a shotgun fight?”

“You can take him.”

Clark laughed.

“I think I’ll stick with my mom,” Clark finished, shaking his head slightly after having calmed down again. “She tends to side with me.”

“Your neutral third party is not so neutral?”

“Something like that.”

“So, if I wanted to be gaining in Kent family good will...”

“You should totally go with mom. She already likes you.”

Really. Now _that_ was an interesting and highly valuable tidbit of military intelligence. “She’s never taken your father to task for his prejudice or remarks against me,” even when Jonathan did so right in front of her, him, and the good Lord above, Lex pointed out. Lex knew Jonathan disliked him, at best. On a good day.

“But when he starts going too far she says ‘Jonathan!’ and makes him stop.”

“But--” that wasn’t taking his side, at best that might be enforcing a politeness extended to guests.

“Peacekeeper. Doesn’t usually start the fights.”

“She just ends them,” Lex mused.

Clark nodded decisively.

So, in the Kent family equation of social conduct, liking someone did not necessarily mean actively taking their side? He’d gotten the wrong impression from only paying close attention to Clark, then.

Hm. Then what did it mean that Martha had actively participated in maneuvering him into a position where he was dressed up as Clark’s favorite movie star and ‘forced’ to spend time enough with him to discover that fact? Or had that been Lana’s idea? He may not have been as circumspect in keeping his ‘public face’ intact when meeting with Clark there, and more than once he’d looked up to see her watching them. ...Then again, Martha _had_ said to ‘have fun’.

Good lord, was that explicit approval and a go-ahead to date her only adopted son?

He certainly hoped so. He’d really thought he hadn’t been so blatant in his affectionate interest, though. But, she mostly certainly was _not_ a stupid woman. Far from it.

But, if he was wrong and that hadn’t been what she had been referring to...

“I guess she _does_ have superior firepower, though. Rifle beats shotgun.”

That startled Lex out of his mental review of past actions, which had started to run in unproductive circles. “What?”

“Mom. She’s good with a rifle. Better than dad with the shotgun, definitely.”

“Meaning?”

“Dad can shoot _at_ coyotes in the fields. Mom can shoot _down_ pheasants and quail.”

Ouch. He received the message loud and clear: do _not_ annoy the formidable Kent matriarch who is, in fact, more than capable of shooting the broadside of a barn. And look, they even happened to have one of those, Lex realized hysterically.

"How... pleasant." Lex searched for some properly relevant and polite response. "Do you ever cook and eat the fowl?"

"Sure -- wouldn't want them to go to waste! They're pretty good!" Clark smiled happily.

Ye gods.

"You... eat them often?" Lex was left wondering how he could steer the topic away to something more benign that didn't involve things getting shot. This time Clark was the one to choose and lift a tray, this one of small cakes, for the two of them to share between them.

"Not really. Only during hunting season, and we only shoot the ones we find on our own land."

"Hmm." Lex selected a light cream-colored cake and lightly bit into it. Ah, but Martha did know her desserts. He recognized a Kent recipe when he tasted one. He felt his shoulders drop and he let his eyes flutter closed as he savored the taste unashamedly, and with a happy mental sigh finished off the rest in one sharp bite.

"Good?" Clark asked.

"Mmm," Lex agreed. "Only thing that could make this better would be a bit of coffee to go with it," he mused softly, then blinked his eyes open and hoped he hadn't committed some unthinkable act of blasphemy there by suggesting that Mrs. Kent's presentation was anything less than perfect, absolute, and complete, or could possibly be improved in some way.

Glancing over at Clark showed him he was safe in that measure, at least, because he seemed to have a slight smile at his response. "Yeah, I like those better with coffee than tea, too."

Lex shared a smile with Clark, up until his young friend added, "So, um, speaking of coffee..." and bit his lip while trying not to shuffle his feet.

"...yes?" Lex added wondering what exactly Clark was--

"You were hanging out with that female doctor from the hospital the other day, right?"

\--oh no. No no. The mental flailing began and warning klaxons went off in Lex's head as he froze up, and he prayed that he did not have a deer-in-the-headlights look plastered across his face. Clark did not, did _not_ go after taken girls. Even with a lot of pushing he barely did so -- not really, not like he was trying to win them over or, perish the thought, actually steal them away properly -- and Lex had a very strong feeling that his sentiment might also extend to the less-fairer sex as well. If Clark had had feelings for Lex when he'd been 'dating' Victoria, it would explain his somewhat jealous-seeming behavior much better, and his latter reluctance would have accounted for his self-removal from Lex's sphere for the interim. Lex had to play this carefully or he'd lose his chance to capture Clark's burgeoning interest before it really began --argh! He was delaying too long, too long!

"So, what was that about?" Clark prodded.

_Just say something, fool!_

"Ah, that was--" how could he explain this to an intelligent young man who surely saw possible flirtation in every move? "--just coffee." Lex fought the urge to kick himself, and how could he explain away what had actually been the beginnings of interest, after all? --Though it was next to nothing when compared to Clark himself, and, damnitall, had it been overheard smalltown gossip, which seemed to move faster than the speed of light, or had Clark actually seen the two of them together? "She is an interesting woman, but" -- let's damn her with faint praise, now! -- "I was only intrigued by her long memory, and the fact that a local doctor was also being forced to take anger management classes."

"Long memory?"

"...Apparently she bore witness to one of my less-than-stellar moments during my 'hard partying' phase in Metropolis," Lex admitted reluctantly. Lex knew that Clark had an idea of what his Club Zero days were like, and seemed to have moved past the idea of that not-so-long-ago prolonged lapse of his from anything that could have been styled "good behavior".

True to hope, Clark only frowned a little before letting that go. "You remembered her?"

"Ah, no, she remembered me."

Clark frowned. "How do you know she wasn't misremembering?"

"I --looked her up." Damn.

"You what?" Double-damn.

"It's-- I looked you--r family up, too. After the crash. And the truck?" Backpedal, backpedal quickly. "If I don't know someone, I have to have them researched. People who claim to remember me tend to be on the short road to blackmail or worse."

"You _researched_ her?"

Oh god. At least Clark hadn't immediately fixated on having had someone research _him_ however long ago, briefly, or benignly, or the bit about blackmail attempts on his person being somewhat normal fare. "How else would I know anything about anyone?"

"You could ask them yourself? Or ask Bette Smith."

"She wouldn't tell me, and I don't know who that is."

"Why wouldn't she tell you? And Bette's the Busybody. She's got her nose in almost everybody's business, and she knows everybody in town." Clark only paused to think for a moment before he added. "I'll introduce you. You shouldn't be researching people; that's rude." ...yet pumping what sounded like the town's biggest gossip for information on someone local was just fine? "You could always ask my mom, instead, if that's better." Oh yes, assuming he wanted to have to deal with Mr. Kent's attitude as the currency of payment, certainly.

"Thank you, that would be helpful," Lex managed to reply without grimacing. "Unfortunately, Helen isn't from Smallville, so that wouldn't have helped in this situation. And she didn't tell me because she was being decidedly difficult."

"But you had coffee with her anyway," Clark half-questioned, half-insisted, in a tone that implied that there must be interest there, because he knew that Lex didn't usually do things like that casually. Not with girls, anyway, and apparently Clark had yet to connect that little tidbit with the possibility of Lex's interest in him, because _they_ went out for coffee together  _all the damn time_.

"It was really more of an excuse to complain about the horrendous lectures and videos with someone of a like mind on the subject matter," Lex added, with as little interest and as much of a scoffing attitude as possible.

"And to get to know her better."

He was moments away from starting to pull hair out of the wig. "And now I do, and she's really quite grating. I can understand why she's in the class, and I'll be avoiding her in the future whenever possible." And the last was certainly going to be the god's-honest truth from this point forward.

Clark gave him a long look as he popped another cake in his mouth and chewed at him suspiciously.

"It was just coffee! I would much rather spend time with you!" Lex tried, more than a little desperately.

Clark rolled his eyes a little, but looked somewhat mollified as he finally gave up. "You should eat something, you're acting weird."

That sounded like something from the Martha Kent school of advice, so Lex swiped another teacake from Clark's tray and bit into it ferociously. As mood-medication went, he found it actually did quite well.

After they ate in silence for awhile and Lex had calmed down somewhat, Clark glanced over at Lex again. "We should probably head inside and get changed. It's getting late, and I don't think anybody new is going to be stopping by."

Lex had to agree. The lull was over, as people who had been inside the Talon were just now starting to stream out in ones and twos, and the street was becoming no longer deserted.

"I suggest that we swing around the back and take the side entrance through the kitchen," Lex recommended quietly.

Clark nodded as they both tidied up the plates and dishes on the large platter. Lex handed Clark back his bunny head, and once he had it back on they split up the platter, folding table, and tea party sign between them and made their way in relative quasi-anonymity to safety behind several sets of closed, locking doors.

~*~*~*~*~*~

In the back room, Clark first helped Lex remove his head ornamentation, then makeup. That gentle, careful procedure aside, they sought after their original garments, then each changed into their own clothing in separate areas of the room, behind shelving, backs turned to each other. Once done, it was a waiting game: relax in idleness until everyone had left the shop so that there would be no witnesses to connect the entering characters with the exiting people, and thus no-one would be the wiser to their identities... at least in Lex's case. Clark's duties for the day, he supposed, would be known to everyone in short order due to Chloe's big mouth, if it wasn't already common knowledge at this point. They both ended up casually lounging on the floor, sitting side-by-side with their backs against one of the shelving units, ignoring the dust.

"Clark?" Lex began quietly.

"Hmm?"

"Are you doing anything Saturday afternoon?"

"I'm helping my dad with the tractor," Clark shrugged ambivalently.

"Oh."

"...I'm free in the evening, though," Clark offered instead. "Why?"

"I thought you might like to come over and watch movies. We haven't done that in awhile."

"What, no hot date with Helen?"

"No!" Lex spat back in denial, straightening, before catching the wicked too-innocent look in Clark's eye. Apparently, his brain needed to catch up to his mouth; he wasn't processing Clark's good-natured teasing very well at the moment.

Clark got a quirky smile and wrapped an arm around Lex's shoulders. "Ok, ok, I get it, you don't really like her all that much."

"I really don't," Lex agreed in a half-mutter, leaning back again. At this point, he really wished they'd never met. Either time.

"Ok, so, what time?"

"Six P.M.?" That was about the earliest one could call 'evening' in the Kent household. Dinner was usually around that time.

Clark grinned. "I dunno, you gonna feed me if I come over before eating?"

Lex nodded. They'd done that before. His kitchen staff didn't mind -- if anything, they _liked_ it when Clark came over and ate lots of food.

"Ok, six P.M. then."

Lex let out a soft sigh and shifted slightly to lean into Clark a little more. Clark let him, or didn't seem to notice... except that he shifted his arm a bit to make Lex a little more comfortable, so maybe he did.

Clark played basketball in his driveway, enjoyed dress-up for tea parties, held his own in long rambling conversations with historical and geeky scientific references sprinkled liberally throughout, snarked away at movies with the best of them, and excitedly cheered football games with his friends from the stands, alike. Clark teased and challenged him equally well, seemed to care about Lex's well-being sometimes even more than his own, and their silences together were more comfortable than anything Lex had ever known. Was it any wonder Lex loved him? How could he not?

Lex slowly closed his eyes and smiled.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference photos for “Alice in Wonderland (2010)” (not an AN, I didn’t lie! Muhahahaha!):  
> [White Rabbit](http://www.imdb.com/media/rm1723502336/tt1014759)  
> [Mad Hatter 1](http://www.imdb.com/media/rm1157924864/tt1014759) and [Mad Hatter 2](http://www.imdb.com/media/rm1086033408/tt1014759)  
> [Alice](http://www.imdb.com/media/rm1141147648/tt1014759)  
> [Red Queen](http://www.imdb.com/media/rm1174702080/tt1014759)  
> [White Queen 1](http://www.imdb.com/media/rm1397329664/tt1014759) and [White Queen 2](http://www.imdb.com/media/rm1191479296/tt1014759)  
> [Dormouse](http://www.imdb.com/media/rm532320000/tt1014759)


End file.
